


I Own You

by nomadtimm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:32:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9846032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomadtimm/pseuds/nomadtimm
Summary: Stiles loves Derek. Derek loves Stiles. But why won't Stiles let Derek tell him... And when Derek opens himself up, will it be too much?





	

**Author's Note:**

> semi-NON-CANNON, like... I DON'T EVEN KNOW!

"I think I might love you." Derek said with a smile, leaning in towards the younger mans lips.

Stiles stopped him with a hand on his chin, thumbing his plump bottom lip. He smiled up at Derek from his place on the couch. "You can't love me until you trust me, Derek."

"I..."

Stiles cut him off. "You don't trust me. And I understand that, I do. I'm not mad or anything, just..." Stiles licked his lips, "Don't tell me you love me until you can say, positively, that you trust me."

Derek shook his head. "Stilinski, I trust you with my life."

Stiles nodded. "I know that. I trust you with my life too, but I also trust you with my heart." Stiles smiled sadly up at him. "So, let's just hold off on the 'I love yous' okay."

Derek moved off the other man to sit on the opposite end of the couch. He clicked his tongue a few times. "Whatever... Fine."

Stiles sighed. "Don't me bad, Derek. I just want to be honest. I don't want to pour everything I have into this relationship, and not be met halfway. You don't have to question, this, us. We're good, we're just not at the 'I love you' stage yet, or, you aren't."

Derek looked over that Stiles, obviously hurt. "But you are."

Stiles scratched idly at his denim-clad thigh."I'm there, and I'm ready to say it and I'm ready for this, us, to be permanent, forever. But you're not."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do." Derek turned on the couch, leg bent so he was facing Derek. "You see... When I'm talking with you, telling you something, or anything... With you, I'm uncensored. I give you everything, I want you to know the real me..."

Derek cut in, "Are you saying that I don't give you everything."

"You're giving me a lot, "Stiles answered. "But not everything. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in you voice. It's like you're trying to be the man I want you to be, when what I want is for you to be open with me about everything. If something bothers you, don't brush off when I ask. Tell me. I wanna know, or I wouldn't ask."

Derek rubbed his hands down his thighs and over his knees, repeating the action a few times before he turned to look at Stiles. "I'm am giving you my all, Stiles. When I say it's nothing, or I brush it off, it's because it is nothing, or I just don't feel like it matters enough to talk about it."

"You might be giving me everything, but I don't feel it. There's this look in your eye, like you're hiding something. Like last night, while we were having sex. There was this look in your eye. This hunger, like you wanted to take me, make me yours, mark me up. And I know it's because that guy at the grocery store checked me out. And I could see it got to you and for a few seconds when I saw your staring at me, I was so hot. I wanted it so much, but then you just... You just made love to me. It's the only thing we do. We make love. And it's good, no complaints, but every now and again it's okay to lose control; I want you to lose control."

Derek went to speak, but Stiles continued.

"And it does matter. If you're pissed off because a guy cut you off while driving, or... Or... Anything, Derek. Anything happens. I wanna know. You get jealous cause a guy checks me out, I wanna know. You wanna fuck me rough up against the door because you wanna mark me, I wanna fucking now. And then I wanna do it." Stiles's voice was steadily rising.

"No, you don't." Derek said through clinched teeth.

"Don't what?" Stiles asked.

"Want me to lose control."

"See that's what I'm talking about. You're pissed right now, you look like you want to hurt me because I won't let you say that you love me. But you're not. Why are you always ignoring your emotions. Why aren't you growling in my ear, biting at my lips. Sucking hickeys along my neck, fucking me with nothing but spit to ease the way over the back of the couch?"

"You really want to know what the fuck I'm feeling? Do you?" Derek growled.

Stiles set back, letting out a deep breath and waited.

"I wanna shake the fuck outta you right now. Why don't you believe I'm in love with you? You're mine, and I wanna let you know that. I wanna fucking hurt you, shove my cock into you with nothing to ease the way, make sure you know who you belong to. That no one is allowed to touch what's mine, not even allowed to look at it. Leave bruises in the shape of my fingerprints all over your body so that when people see you, even though they shouldn't be looking, they'll know your owned. That you're mine." Derek growled last three words.

Stiles's eyes were wide, but he quickly masked his surprise, trying to keep Derek raw and exposed.

"Even when Scott or Issac, Erica or Allison are hugging you, touching your arm..."

Stiles cut him off. "Derek, they're my friends. That's it."

"I don't fucking care." Derek yelled, kicking the coffee table.

Stiles jumped as it crashed into the wall, it's contents sliding off and falling to the floor.

"You're mine. And nobody touches what's mine." Derek yelled.

And then Derek looked over that Stiles and his rage disappeared, leaving his face blank. "See, now I've scared you." His tone was soft, and flat. "I'm..."

"Don't apologize. Keep going. I wanna hear this. I asked for it. Please." Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat watching Derek with cat like eyes.

"No. I need to stay calm and..."

"I said fucking give it to me, Derek. I'm not a goddamned baby."

"Oh, that's right," Derek began, his tone sharp. "Stiles wants me to bare my fucking soul. Let him get to know the real, Derek."

Derek got right in Stiles's face, snarling, "You don't want to know the real, Derek."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Give me your all, baby."

Derek jumped up off the couch, pacing back and forth in front of Stiles. "You wanna know why I don't take you; Wanna know why I don't mark you."

Derek looked right into Stiles's eyes, and Stiles tried to not look surprised and how dark they looked. So, not Derek like.

"Because what if I can't stop? Did ya ever think of that? What if once I let you have it all, I can't stop giving it. What if you can't handle it. It's been 2 years, Stiles. You and I, 2 years. You're mine and you're not leaving me. I'll do whatever I have to do to keep you. If I have to repress every goddamn emotion in my body, I'll do it because you're not leaving me."

"I'm not leaving you, Derek. Ever."

Derek's eye bore daggers into Stiles. "I know that. But do you?"

Stiles didn't answer. He changed the topic. "So, let me have it about this jealousy thing you've got. People are gonna look at me, babe."

Derek grunted. "And I deal with that, but they're not going to fucking touch you. They're not going to even think about it."

Stiles sighed. "You can't control people's thoughts, Derek."

"Maybe I'll just keep you in the house. Won't let you leave. What do you think about that, Stiles? Because I own you. I'll do whatever the fuck I want with you."

Stiles chuckled, a small smirk playing on his lips. "That's funny. I don't feel owned."

Derek grabbed Stiles, picking him up by his throat, and walked the two feet to the wall and slammed him up against it. "You're trying to piss me off, aren't you." A statement, not a question.

Stiles shook his head, glad to have his feet back on the floor. "Not at all. I'm proving to myself that you're too much of a pussy to show me the real you."

Derek growled, went to speak, but Stiles just couldn't leave well enough alone.

"I get that you think you own me, I do. I just don't feel it, ya know. I mean, what's to stop me from going back to that grocery store and fucking that little shit head of a bag-boy?

Derek's hand got a little tighter around Stiles's throat.

"Or, maybe," and Stiles knew he shouldn't do this, was pushing Derek to far. But he couldn't help himself, "I'll go visit Lydia."

Stiles could see it in Derek's eyes. Could see that mentioning Lydia was the last straw.

The sharp sting of Derek's palm across his cheek was unexpected, but welcome.

"Mention that name again and I'll do far worse than that."

Stiles swallowed, nodding.

A small smile crept up on Derek's lips. He leaned in close, his mouth against Stiles's ear. "You brought this upon yourself."

Stiles nodded, locking eyes with Derek. "Do you worst."

Derek's nostrils flared. He dropped his hand from Stiles's throat, spinning him around, smashing him chest first into the wall.

"You want me to stop. I'll stop. Just say it."

Stiles shook his head. "No."

"I'm serious, Stiles. This is your last chance. You either tell me to stop now, or there's no going back."

"No," Stiles said, turning his head, cheek against the wall, "I want this. I want you."

Hours later, sheets tangled around their bodies, Derek pulled Stiles impossibly closer.

"I love you." Derek whispered.

Stiles smiled against Derek's chest. "I know.


End file.
